


Mazarigo

by InsomniacCoffee



Series: Kloktober 2020 [7]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: I don't know how to tag this but nothing triggering here, Kloktober, M/M, Post-Album: Galaktikon ll, Snow Day, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsomniacCoffee/pseuds/InsomniacCoffee
Summary: Kloktober Prompt: Day 24-Snow (May also be counted for Day 17's sick prompt if I don't get that done in time)Whumptober Prompt: No 23-ExhaustionPost-Galaktikon. Was it supposed to snow?
Relationships: Charles Foster Offdensen/Pickles the Drummer
Series: Kloktober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947079
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Mazarigo

**Author's Note:**

> I'll admit that this was originally Day 13's prompt for cooking but it ended up turning to something else. Was it because I had watched The Twilight Zone episode, Midnight Sun, at least twice that day? No, definitely not-

Charles’ alarm woke Pickles up from his dreamless sleep. There was the moment of confusion that came from waking up; from trying to remember if he was sleeping or doing something else, where he was sleeping and trying to move but his body felt too heavy. He kept his eyes closed as he was too exhausted to even open them for a moment to try and figure out his surroundings. Maybe it was better to be asleep rather than wake up and figure out that he was somewhere where he didn’t want to be. 

Pickles heard him turn off the alarm, but he didn’t get out of bed just yet. He wrapped an arm around him and moved closer to him to try and get a few more minutes of sleep. The warmth and feeling of him was the only thing that made him recognize it was Charles holding him and not anyone else. Maybe he could’ve acknowledged he was awake, but he found himself enjoying the quiet moment with him way too much to disrupt it. He was warm and comforting and listening to his breathing was one of the things that brought him back to reality.

He was already beginning to drift off back to sleep when the alarm sounded again. There was a sigh coming from Charles before he eventually let go of him and got out of bed. Even with the blanket over him, the cold was slowly washing over him now that the only warmth he felt was gone. He couldn’t move or speak to beg him to stay which felt like being trapped in his own body. The only thing he could really do was just keep his eyes closed and hoped that he could drift off once again.

A dim light from the lamp illuminated the room but wasn't enough to bother his eyes. He could hear footsteps, the closet door opening and shutting, and any other things Charles had in his morning routine. He approached him, a warm hand resting on his forehead before pulling away. He kissed the top of his head and his presence suddenly was gone. The silence in the room hung heavy after the light was turned off and the door shut. It didn’t help with how cold the room was feeling. He had hoped that Charles would come back and go back to sleep with him again but even he knew that once his second or third alarm was off, it would be hard to get him back in bed until night. 

In one moment, he felt cold and the second moment, he was regaining consciousness. He must’ve drifted off for a bit. The room felt colder than before, and confusion had easily set in. Surely, he must be somewhere where he shouldn’t be. He should be asleep. He wanted to go back to sleep but he felt uneasiness, and the feeling of dread set in. Maybe he wasn't supposed to sleep. He should probably be doing something else. But what else was he supposed to do?

He finally opened his eyes and didn’t recognize the room at all. It was near pitch black, and it was hard to see or make out his surroundings. The only source of light was from the window where the curtains were drawn but some light made the curtains almost give a slight glow.

Cautiously, he pulled the blanket off him as he sat up. Instantly he regretted the decision as the room felt so much colder without the blanket. It was as if someone put the AC on full blast but there was no sound of it running in the background. He pulled the blanket closer to himself as he slowly got out of bed. He felt lethargic and his body was begging to go back to bed, but he ignored it. With the only source of light being the filtered curtains, he made his way to the window. It felt colder just going near it and it was easy to tell that it was still night. He pulled back the curtains to be greeted to the sight of white flakes falling against a black background.

Cautiously, he opened the window slightly and the cold air immediately hit him. It felt like tiny daggers hitting his bare skin, so he kept the window just slightly open. It was enough to be able to touch the white flakes that sat in a small pile on a window ledge. It was cold and just holding some felt uncomfortable for a few moments before it slowly melted and turned to water. Oh, it was snow. 

It was snowing outside. Should it be snowing? It was summer, wasn't it? It was still June. Crickets were yet to signal that winter was even near and the days were long and full of warmth. It was warmth that would sometimes be sweltering hot but that’s what iced drinks and trips to the beach were for. They had yet to do that and it was something he was looking forward to.

If it was June, why was it snowing? Why was it still dark out? Did they fuck up? God, they really must’ve. There was no reason for it to snow during summer. Something was so fucking wrong. He had to do something. Shit, did they even fulfill that prophecy? He tried his best to remember such a thing, but his mind came up blank. He couldn’t even remember anything before he woke up. Almost as if he had completely forgotten a large chunk of the year.

He made sure the window was shut before he slowly made his way to the door. The blanket felt heavier carrying it over his shoulders, so he had to drop it on the way. His body was still weak, cold and just felt like it might give in to the floor at any moment. He opened the door, forcing himself to continue walking down an almost unfamiliar yet familiar hallway. The stairs were the hardest part, but he made it in one piece by using the railing as support.

The only source of light was the kitchen and dining room. It was quiet so the sound of papers shuffling and a keyboard being typed on was audible. He quietly walked over to the kitchen to find Charles there. He had been brewing a cup of coffee and was working on something on his laptop. He looked up to meet his eyes, almost surprised he was even standing there but he still smiled warmly at him regardless, “Good morning, Pickles. How are you feeling?”

He wondered why he was so calm. It was snowing. Fucking snow in the middle of June! He didn’t know how to articulate that worry/fear. The only thing he really wanted to do was to be held by him, feeling as safe and warm as he usually did until he fell asleep. God, he just wanted to sleep again.

“I-I don’t know,” Pickles said finally.

Charles closed his laptop and walked over to him. He checked his forehead, "You're still burning up. You should go back to bed."

Pickles knew that he was right and he wanted nothing more than that. However, looking at the kitchen window, he could see snow and Charles didn’t seem all that concerned about it, “Why is it snowing?”

He seemed a little puzzled at the question, “Well, it’s expected around this time for it to snow. It’s been snowing all week so far.”

“It shouldn’t be snowing in June-”

“June? You think it’s June?”

“Well, yeah, what other month can it be?”

“Pickles, it’s December,” Charles said after a pause. He had known that something like that would happen but he had no idea the severity of what he did or didn’t remember.

He didn't know how to react. Did he really just lose memories of months just like that? He had gaps of time he didn't remember, mostly from drugs he'd taken over the years, but it felt different knowing he just possibly missed out on months. He didn' want to believe him but sounded serious and given how it was literally snowing outside, it must've been true, "But I swear it was just June.”

“What do you remember? Do you remember yesterday?”

“Nothing,” He shook his head and he quickly realized that it must have scared Charles so he quickly added, “I mean, I remember everything but I just can’t remember…being here or what happened before I woke up.”

“I see,” Charles gently took his hand and had him sit down. He could easily tell he probably had no energy to stand up longer with how he leaned against the door frame. Most likely he wouldn't be up for long before he'd try and fall asleep again and he had no idea if he'd remember the conversation once he fell asleep. But it was the first time in a while he didn't seem to be delirious or confused so it made him all the more hopeful, “You’ve been sick for quite a while now. We're at one of the vacation homes we purchased some time ago.”

Pickles didn't speak as he tried to remember. He knew about what they had bought together and they even visited said homes together. This was the first home they bought together sometime after their fourth or fifth album had broken world records. It was one of the places he loved personally because of how much of a getaway place it became for them, "Vermont, right?"

"Yes," Hearing those words had taken so much stress off him already. It helped him at least figure out to what extent he did/didn't remember. If he could remember that, most likely he remember most things, "We figured just having you in a quieter environment was for the best and you weren't being in a life-threatening situation so staying here and having a doctor to check on you daily was the best option to do."

"How long have I been sick?" He had to ask.

"About five months, give or take," He didn't miss a beat. Luckily he had continued on what would've been his next question, “Doctors had checked on you but no one really could give us a clear answer; I guess it was just something that happened. Maybe the fight just really took a toll on you or it was something related to you being a God and all. But you’re okay in the end and it’s all that matters.”

“Wait, we already fought Salacia?”

“You boys really defeated him. It took a while and it was a hard fight but you all helped save the world. They visit occasionally still but they're mainly taking a vacation and doing their own things at the moment.”

Pickles couldn’t remember that at all. It felt like someone just cut that part of his memory like splicing films. Defeating an entity and not remembering it, being sick for months at a time, and that most likely Charles took care of him most of the time. It was a lot to take in, “So it’s all over?”

“Yes, it really is. You just need to get better, is all. But we’re having a conversation so I think you’re finally getting there,” He answered.

Hearing that honestly brought a relief he didn’t realize he needed. It was a weight that had held him so heavily since he woke up, and the realization that he didn’t need to worry about such a thing made things so much easier now. He was glad it was all over. He was upset at himself for being sick for so long and being a burden to Charles, though. He wanted to try and make it up to him when he got better. He just had to but he knew that he would protest at him wanting to say such a thing. Saving the world was probably more than enough but since he didn't remember that event at the moment, it didn't count.

He looked at the window again. It was still dark out and despite knowing it was now January, it still made him feel a bit uneasy. It still felt like there was something he should know about but he didn’t remember at all what it was, “…But the sun will still come up?”

“Of course. The world hasn't changed at all minus eliminating the threat. The seasons and days and nights are as long and as short as they need to be. It still snows in January and it’s hot in July. Everything is as it should be,” He looked at his watch, “It’s only five-thirty right now. The sun should be up by seven but you probably won't be able to see it with it snowing and all.”

"Oh," Was all he said. He was a little disappointed. It would be nice to see it as some form of reassurance but all he had was Charles' word and that was enough to him.

“You should get to bed, though. You should still rest. I'll bring you something to eat in a bit," Charles stood up and was ready to help him get back up the stairs. 

“Actually, I wanna stay up for a bit with you,” He knew most likely he would be falling asleep but he had just woken up coherent for once in such a long time; he wanted to be with him awake as much as possible. 

He didn't protest probably because he knew that even when he's sick and weak, he'll still put up a fight, "We can go to the living room. It'll be better falling asleep there than on a chair."

Charles helped him to the living room where the fireplace was already on. It helped give the room a warm glow and made it feel like the warmest room in the house. He brought his laptop with him and set it on the coffee table. He draped the throwaway blanket over them as he sat down and brought the laptop closer to him. Pickles had rested his head on his shoulder. It was obvious he was still burning up, he could almost feel the heat of his skin on his shoulder but he had to reassure himself that it didn't mean things were growing worse for him. He seemed to be getting better and it was just going to take time.

"Charlie?" Pickles interrupted his thoughts. His voice sounded tired and he was definitely trying to fight off sleep.

He turned to look at him and was met with feverish lips pressing against his, "I love you."

"I love you, too," He missed that, he really did.

Pickles didn't see the sunrise or snow stop falling that day. He did, however, see the sunrise the very next day when snow was slowly beginning to melt and he was entangled in the arms of his loved one in a very warm room.


End file.
